


toothache

by hibiscus_tea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Extremely Vanilla Sex, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Top Shiro (Voltron), and they were ROOMMATES, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 16:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibiscus_tea/pseuds/hibiscus_tea
Summary: Shiro and Keith: best friends, roommates, friends with benefits.





	toothache

They eat dinner by the riverside after work, matching Nike sneakers hanging over murky green water. Late evening falls over an open pizza box - an abandoned order: bacon-mushroom-peppers - and Keith’s rumpled work uniform. White polo and jeans. 

His hair needs a wash, and he has a black eye. These are things that Shiro notices, quietly admires in the cool blue evening, in the cast of street lamps and warm restaurant light. 

“Hey,” Keith says, turning with a twisted, contemplative expression, his mouth half open. “My tooth got knocked loose.”

Pizza on his breath when Shiro leans close, follows Keith’s finger with his own to poke inside his mouth. Humid exhales, the wet of the inside of his mouth. Shiro presses at the topography of the selected tooth and feels it give. 

“Huh,” he says. 

Later, when he presses Keith into the mattress, he touches tongue to minty tongue, eyes shut. Smooths his palm up a bare side, brushes his fingertips over a fuzzy underarm. 

Keith’s hands are always wanting, touching Shiro’s shoulders, his back. Cupping a pec to squeeze at flesh and muscle. 

They rub against each other. Shiro plays every one of Keith’s punched-out breaths on loop in the quiet pieces between. When Keith crushes his mouth in a kiss, pushes open lips against his throat and licks.

“Can you fuck me?” Keith asks against humid skin, his palm rubbing Shiro’s side. 

The question hits Shiro at the top of his head and drops through him in a freefall swoop. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, takes a kiss. 

Up close, Keith’s eyes are flecked an indecipherable shade of blue. Shiro sinks lubed fingers inside tight heat and gazes at the splash of freckles under the edges of a dark bruise. Watches inky eyelashes flutter. 

He gets torn, sometimes. Loves to kiss and loves to watch. He likes to kiss with his eyes open in small doses, sees flashes of skin and closed lids. His heart always beating with the idea that Keith might catch him in the act. 

Now, Keith pulls him down and sucks the thoughts off his tongue. Shifts underneath him and moans in a puff of air at the stretch of three fingers. Keith is always a little tight, clinging around Shiro’s knuckles until three fingers pry him open, get him warm. 

Shiro kisses his neck, sucks at the skin above the join of his shoulder. 

“Shiro.” Quiet. 

They always have sex with the lights on. Cheap light bulbs in the ceiling, energy savers that flicker for seconds as they turn on, courtesy of a largely absent landlord. 

Easier than fumbling around for a condom in the dark. 

There’s a small box of them in the drawer by Keith’s bed. Shiro is utterly charmed by the quirk of it. The timely restock and repurchase, like a bigger box would reach expiry date. 

“Can we do it like this?” Keith asks. 

He turns on his side, body laid out and breathing on the small twin bed. He looks at Shiro, the slight tilt of his nose in profile. Like this his bruised eye is hidden, although Shiro doubts that would be the root of the choice. 

“Of course,” Shiro tells him, never too tender. 

He lies down and presses himself to Keith’s back. Having one arm leads to less complicated spooning. Keith’s head cushions on his bicep, his hair curls against the bridge of Shiro’s nose. 

“Like this?” Shiro asks, touching his side. 

“Yeah.”

Keith’s knee draws up the bed with the first push. He breathes through his nose with his lips pushed together in a line. Shiro can see his temple and the curve of his cheek in this position, part of his mouth, the curl of his hair. Their skin sticks a little, where their bodies touch. He feels the movement of Keith’s breathing. 

There’s a tiny noise past the thickest part, and then Keith squeezes around him. Shiro touches him in broad sweeps, chest to muscled thigh and watches the corner of Keith’s mouth relax. 

Keith holds onto his elbow as he moves. Noises soft enough to disappear under the ground floor sound of passing cars. Shiro watches the part of Keith’s face that he can see, and the spread of Keith’s fingers in the sheets. 

Their breathing changes as the pace picks up. 

“Faster,” Keith asks him. So Shiro tilts their hips and pushes Keith into the bed for a better angle. Wraps his arm around a flushed chest and holds on tight. 

“Fuck,” Shiro breathes into Keith’s hair. When he sweats like this, he smells like comfort. And he feels so good, his slim hips moving and the damp at the dip of his back. Shiro kisses his shoulder, loses himself down the splay of his neck and up in the curls behind his ear. Moans as he sucks on skin. 

“Shiro,” Keith says, and the name has a telltale waver. Shiro pushes him onto his front, buries his nose in the lightly freckled nape of a neck. 

There’s a flush across Keith’s back. His hips tilt up to chase the rhythm and Shiro drags air into his lungs, breathes him in. 

“Touch yourself,” he begs, and watches the way Keith moves to fulfil the request. Takes the sound Keith makes like a punch. 

Even more important when Keith goes quiet just before he comes. Hips jolt, and there’s a strangled groan into the mattress. The wavering ache of Shiro’s name. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, gives it back. He wants to touch, wants a kiss. Instead he comes in a rush, helpless. Pressing himself into Keith’s body.

Together they breathe through the aftermath. Quietly, Keith huffs a laugh and tugs a pillow down to rest his head on it. 

Even with his weight training, there’s only so much his one arm can take. Shiro pulls out carefully and gets rid of the condom. Lies on his side, taking half of Keith’s pillow for his own. 

“Keith?” He says, when the pleasant quiet stretches. 

“Mm?”

“How’s the tooth?”

The question gets him a shift. Keith turning in what room the narrow bed gives him until they’re face to face. After minutes of seeing it only in parts, the full picture is momentarily pulse-stopping. 

Keith opens his mouth for Shiro’s inspection, one lovely fingertip pointing out the tooth in question. 

“Still loose?” Shiro says with a quirk of a smile.

“Ah-huh.” Mouth wide, Keith pushes at it to demonstrate.

“Mm,” Shiro hums. Lowers his eyes as signal. Takes Keith’s mouth in a kiss. 

Keith gives it to him easily. Opens his mouth for Shiro’s tongue. There’s a muffled noise as Shiro finds the tooth and prods it, and Keith’s fingers digging into his side in retaliation until their teeth clack with laughter. 

“Quit it,” Keith warns, “or you’re footing the dentist’s bill.”

“I’m quitting it,” Shiro promises, “I’m quitting it.” 

He goes in for another kiss, but Keith turns his cheek so it lands at the taunting corner of his smile. 

“Get out of here,” Keith laughs, puts a hand on his chest. 

It’s half a joke, but it’s late, and this bed can’t fit two of them. Shiro steals a close-mouthed kiss and rolls out of bed. Scoops his clothes off the floor. 

Their shared flat is tiny enough for every move in the shower to be heard through the walls. Shiro keeps his humming quiet as he rinses off quickly and pads back to bed with a towel slung over his shoulder. 

It’s only ever when he slides into bed like this, freshly showered and alone, that he remembers why this arrangement might be a bad idea. When the quiet heartache sets in as he hugs a pillow and stares at the dividing wall between their rooms. 

“Goodnight,” Keith calls through the wall. 

Shiro closes his eyes to make sleep come just that bit easier.

“Goodnight, Keith,” he replies.

**Author's Note:**

> it's been ages since i've written anything and even longer since i posted. to be honest this mostly happened by accident, but it's really nice to be writing fic again even if it's tiny :)


End file.
